


you don't have to say i love you (to say i love you)

by eatthatup



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Emotional Constipation, Falling In Love, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22818556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatthatup/pseuds/eatthatup
Summary: Yuta smiles. “I want you to be sure.”“Of what?”“Of love.”So that’s how it begins. With an ending.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 2
Kudos: 137





	you don't have to say i love you (to say i love you)

**Author's Note:**

> wooooow i'm back!! this is a commission for quinn <3 i love you and i hope you enjoy this one i'm already cooking a johnten on ok! thank you sososos much for trusting me always <3

Doyoung is not a public person.

There's private-Doyoung and extroverted-Doyoung, two different personalities that he manages incredibly well despite the pressuring aspects of his life. He's been called soulless so many times it's become a permanent trait of his, and no matter how hard he attempts to express his actual heartfelt feelings—doubt will always be there.

Actually, it hasn't been a problem with Yuta.

Since they've started dating, a rainy night on October, after Doyoung ended up at an after party which he then found out was Yuta’s birthday party; understanding has been, up to this point, one of the main bricks that build up their relationship. So Doyoung understands Yuta's boundaries, and vice versa. 

In theory, at least.

-

It's not that Yuta is an apathetic person. 

In fact, he can't hide his emotions well, and anyone at a considerable distance could sense that he's mad or happy, jealous or frustrated. He's easy to read, more than an open book, actually. Yuta is like a river flowing with feelings, at times, turbulent waters are all people can see from afar, and as it calms, Yuta does too. 

Or well, that's just Doyoung’s take on his whole, deep and complex personality. As a writer, all Doyoung does is constantly think of him as metaphors, describe him with difficult words that will remain forever attached to him inside his mind.

So, because Yuta showcases his feelings, and Doyoung only suppresses them, problems begin to arise in the early stages of their relationship. 

“Sit here,” Yuta pats his thighs, signaling for Doyoung to sit on them. Johnny, Ten and Taeil are all occupying the sofa in front of them, sipping on their drinks unaware of the turmoil Doyoung suddenly finds himself in. Sitting on Yuta’s lap has many,  _ many _ implications. 

“I’m gonna crush you,” he says, pushing Yuta slightly as to force him to shift places. 

“I'm not gonna break,” insists Yuta, still allowing some space beside him for Doyoung.

“Yeah, right.”

Taeil stares at them with narrowed eyes, and then focuses back on whatever Ten is showing Johnny on his phone. There was clear judgment that Doyoung could perceive, but it doesn't affect him not even one bit. Simply because Yuta slips easily into a conversation and forgets about it pretty quickly, leaving even more room for Doyoung to sit properly. He does. And feels out of place instantly.

Doyoung feels odd. He feels, but there's no point in sharing. 

-

As days go by, Doyoung begins wondering what's the emptiness inside him that suddenly appears and makes itself at home. 

Clearly, it's about Yuta. 

See, now whenever they’re close, there’s a need to run away that overtakes Doyoung’s unconscious mind entirely, like a thought that simply exists at the back of his mind, gnawing, but doesn’t dare to become real. Doyoung still feels it. And it’s such a bother to pretend to be okay that, at times, he just snaps. 

“Why are you so touchy-feely?” he  _ snarls _ , showing discomfort in his face. 

Yuta is taken aback. 

“Sorry? I was just—holding you,” as Yuta explains, he retracts his hand from his waist and looks away. Maybe Doyoung should give his resting bitch-face a break. “Didn’t know that was a problem now.”

“It isn’t,” Doyoung says calmly now, “I just don’t like  _ PDA _ .” 

“Right.”

Ten is suddenly coming rushing to his side, a shamefaced Johnny trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

“ _ Doie _ , let’s buy this, look, look,” he points at something on his phone that Doyoung can’t read at all, and then remembers he didn’t put his contact lenses on today. So Ten’s screen is a black and white blur. 

“Your glasses are in your bag,” Yuta comments, making Johnny react and lift an eyebrow at him. It’s as if they all know something Doyoung  _ doesn’t _ . It angers him. 

So, per Yuta’s request, he fumbles through his bag and finds the ugly case where he keeps them just to be safe and puts them on, finally being able to see properly. Ten continues holding up his phone (and Doyoung wonders how he’s managing to be so patient and giddy at the same time). 

“There’s a promo for drinks here tonight but Johnny-hyung doesn’t like vodka,” Ten begins rambling, “and Taeil-hyung is already sleeping at his place, and Taeyong-hyung is already with someone, I think.”

He looks back to check. All Ten gets is dazzling lights and a hundred of people dancing. 

“I’m driving tonight,” Doyoung states.

Is he?

“Wasn’t I the designated driver tonight?” Johnny opens his mouth, finally, and Doyoung is about to give in because alcohol sounds just  _ great _ .

“You are, baby,” Ten replies before anyone can say anything. Doyoung pretends not to hear, and turns around to Yuta smirking as Johnny playfully hits Ten’s shoulder and then grabs onto his waist with both hands, holding Ten close to him. 

He’s aware of what Yuta is thinking. Extremely, very aware of the look on his face. But Doyoung would rather die before admitting that it’s hurting him too. 

“Gonna drink?” he asks, watching Ten walk straight to the counter to order.

“Yeah, I gotta relax,” Doyoung replies. A sharp pain runs up his back. 

“You  _ really  _ do,” the way Yuta makes a reference to Doyoung’s recent attitude should put him in a worse mood, but, frankly, he’s being honest. And honesty is key. 

“Thanks for pointing it out,” he murmurs and Yuta simply  _ smiles _ . He wonders, for a moment, if his most attractive trait is being a sarcastic, arrogant and soulless person. 

(Doyoung knows that’s not him. Not his true self, the one Yuta probably sees when he stares at him lovingly. But he’d rather be that person than show Yuta the truth behind his words, his eyes, his heart).

After exactly eight minutes, Ten is back with two glasses in hand, and they all cheer “ _ Bottoms up! _ ” until Ten knocks it down in one go, while Doyoung sips on it and enjoys every sensation on his tongue. How it burns, then leaves a trail of fire down his throat, and finally sinks in his stomach like a heavy weight that’s more than  _ vodka _ . 

The slower, the better.

Both Johnny and Ten disappear, Doyoung would rather not know  _ where _ , and Taeil calls himself an  _ Uber  _ with a lopsided grin and a goodbye. So silence blankets them like a wildfire takes over a dry forest, strains them like a blood pressure cuff. Quietness only grows deeper, and Doyoung begins experiencing the effects of alcohol before he’s able to control them. 

(Which is impossible, although he’s not a lightweight, sometimes oversharing is unmanageable). 

“Do you think I’m too much?” Doyoung asks, clear, determined. He doesn’t slur or stumbles over his words.

“No, not at all,” Yuta replies, sips on a pink drink that Doyoung doesn’t recall him ordering, and then frowns. “Why?”

“I know I’m too much, so I don’t see why you like me,” he continues, “why you’re even wasting your time.”

“Doyoung,” hearing his name with such an imposing tone sends shivers down his spine, “Do you even know why I like you? Do you think I’d let you fool me with your asshole-y persona and I’d fall for  _ that _ ?”

“Well, yes,” Doyoung affirms, and takes finally gulps down the entire drink. “People like assholes like me.”

“Do you like assholes like me, too?”

It’s a difficult question. Yuta is not an asshole, nor a bad a person, he’s, maybe, the opposite of Doyoung at times. And he cares so much it’s overwhelming. 

“I don’t know,” it’s what he says. First mistake. 

His eyes get droopy, and he hides his face inside his folded arms on top of the table. Yuta’s gaze burns the back of his neck. 

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know,  _ hyung _ ,” he repeats, “is the music too loud?”

“You’re drunk, let’s go home.” 

Perhaps Doyoung is, but the need to throw up is clearly not from the few drinks he may have had. 

It comes from the deepest part of his soul and heart, from the thought of not being enough, from Yuta holding his waist and Doyoung wanting to melt away. 

Once home, his bed doesn’t bring any comfort. 

-

They don’t talk about it. 

Instead, Yuta becomes distant, awkwardness arises in between them, and their friends all lament silently their ungraceful interactions. Like teenagers, early on their relationship. 

Like teenagers and their two-weeks long relationships. Except, Doyoung and Yuta’s relationship at least lasted two months months and a half. 

“We need to talk,” says Doyoung, he doesn’t avoid it, although he wishes he could, if he doesn’t resolve it as soon as possible, it will eat him alive. Yuta just deals with it differently. 

“I know,” Yuta sits on his bed and gets comfortable, as if they’re not on the verge of falling apart. “But I wanted to ask you a question first.” 

Yuta is no coward. Yuta is everything Doyoung wishes he could be.

“Did you ever love me?”

Doyoung is a coward. (Because his plan was a straightforward ‘ _ We don’t work together _ ’ and ‘ _ Let’s break up _ ’ but Yuta brings up love, and Doyoung’s brain short-circuits). 

“I—don’t think so.” Doyoung is such a coward that he becomes the heartless person people think he is. Yuta looks as heartbroken as anybody would be, but doesn’t cry, or stutter as he talks. His eyes look dark and empty, yet he nods in acceptance. 

“Then, why are we dating?”

“Love is a long process—”

“I don’t mean that, Doyoung, and you know that.” 

“I mean, why are we dating if you’re not ready to let anyone  _ love  _ you?” he asks, but it’s not meant to be answered, “I don’t want to be your toy, you know. I think our ‘ _ we need to talk _ ’ is more than a simple break-up. I think I’ve come to terms with not being able to help you open up.”

“Listen, it’s not  _ this  _ deep,” Doyoung attempts to explain despite the fact that his stomach sinks lower with every word Yuta spits out. “I told you I’m not an easy person, I told you I’m hard to—”

“Those are excuses, you’re just too scared.”

God, it hurts in ways Doyoung hasn’t experienced before. 

“Then this is it?” He questions, “just because I’m not too affectionate or  _ love  _ you yet?”

Yuta smiles. “I want you to be sure.”

“Of what?”

“Of love.”

-

So that’s how it begins. With an ending. 

It’s kind of poetic, if Doyoung thinks about it. He breaks up with Yuta and cries after two weeks of bottling it all up. He then writes in his journal about how stupid love is and closes it, safely hiding it back inside his wardrobe. And two days later, he’s sitting at a  _ Starbucks  _ with Ten in front of him, desperately asking for information. 

“He told me to, I don’t know, learn about love or something,” Doyoung huffs out, “I know what love is. I know love takes time. Is it too hard to understand?”

“I think he has a point, you’re just too dumb to get it,” Ten says. He shakes his head in disappointment. “We were all so surprised of how close to you Yuta was, you never let anyone know the stuff he knew, and like, he touched you and  _ hugged  _ you. Maybe it’s been building up.”

“What? You think—”

“You never open up. Admit it.”

“I open up all the time, but a partner is a different matter!” Doyoung exclaims. Ten can only sigh and watch his empty cup. “He—I wasn’t bothered by it at first, but it got too deep now.” 

“See?”

“He knows how the case of my glasses looks like. No one knows that,” the more he talks, the more Ten frustratedly groans. “He knows my schedule, or at least knows my classes on Fridays, and he holds my waist and…”

“And?”

“I feel exposed.”

“He’s your boyfriend, Doie.”

“ _ Was _ ,” Doyoung corrects him. 

“God, you’re so heartless,” Ten punches his shoulder, “let yourself _ feel  _ something at least, damn.”

“I feel differently, that’s all.”

He does. He feels too strongly, perhaps. Because Doyoung ruined it himself, with every sharp word, every evasion of direct contact, like a coward, he managed to end it before it even truly began. On purpose. Because he’s incapable of allowing anyone  _ love  _ him, waste their time, and once Yuta mentioned the word love, Doyoung already saw the end. 

“You need to get your shit together, Doyoung, seriously,” Ten says in a serious tone. It makes Doyoung realize how connected they all are, how his actions affect others too. How he’s just worsening it one word at a time. “Yuta-hyung is our friend too, and it’s hard to ignore how you two are  _ scrambling  _ away from each other. I haven’t seen Yuta in two days! And I need him!”

Doyoung sighs, closes his eyes, inhales, and makes eye-contact with Ten as he exhales.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I’ll try to understand.”

“Okay…” Ten replies tentatively. “How do you plan on doing that?”

With a final look, Doyoun grabs his coffee and stands up, “Just trust me.”

-

There’s a lot of people who trust Doyoung, for some reason.

He has an aura of reliability, and most of his friends go to him for advice. Now, he finds himself in a position where he wouldn’t even  _ trust  _ himself and would be willing to go to others for some counselling. It’s such a strange situation, Doyoung wonders if it was all somehow a dream. 

There he is, sitting on his bed, laptop open. The screen shows the widely-known  _ Google  _ logo and it takes Doyoung a few minutes to start typing. 

He writes:  _ How to show love to others _ . A few articles show up. And it’s fruitless. 

Because Doyoung listens, Doyoung offers helps, Doyoung forgives, and he also has written poems in the past before. He knows romance, he knows love. And the problem still lies in being deserving of it, giving others the privilege of loving him, allow them, and then finally feel at ease. But it’s not easy. At all. 

Doyoung is not a public person. Is not a lovable person. 

Now he types in:  _ How to let others love me _ .

And understands, finally, that love is mutual. 

Doyoung doesn’t allow anyone to see him at his worst, Doyoung doesn’t accept help or compliments, Doyoung doesn’t share any secrets and, most importantly, Doyoun  _ does  _ fear abandonment. He doesn’t fully trust, doesn’t completely gives himself in. There’s a part of him that’s constantly reminding him of the better options people have—like Yuta, for example. He’s pretty, a partier, a funny and easy-going person, straightforward and moody at times, but with clear and nice intentions. There’s a reason why Doyoung first paid attention to him, and others see that too. 

It’s harder than he thought, to accept it. 

-

Yuta is wearing maybe the hottest outfit he could find inside his stocked wardrobe. 

Perhaps the decision to come to a party a week after they broke up, fully aware of him attending, wasn’t the best ideas. But bad ideas don’t come from him, no. They come from Ten, who is holding his arm and greeting people Doyoung has no clue of. 

“They are from the Dance Department,” Ten shouts over the music. Really, there’s no need, since he’s glued to his side, but Doyoung is too tired and unfocused to complain and yell back at him.

“Oh,” he replies idly, gazing back at Yuta. 

“God, you’re so obvious,” Ten slaps his neck, softly, and once they lock eyes, Doyoung sees fear. Sometimes Ten is a kid in the body of a twenty-three year old. “Fucking emotional constipation, you need to fix this  _ ASAP _ .”

“I’m trying,” he insists, “but you’re not helping at all by bringing me here.”

“I wanted you to see him have fun and realize you’d rather be the one having fun with him, then go over, beg for forgiveness, have sex or something, and the deal is over,” Ten explains in clear detail, yelling all of it inside his ear. Doyoung wants to go home already, and they are still in the entrance hallway. 

“You’re—insane,” Doyoung replies. 

“I’m going a bit insane because I haven’t seen my boyfriend in three days,” he acts offended and fake cries. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Fuck off.”

Ten does fuck off, seemingly. Gets lost in the crowd and leaves Doyoung all alone in a party he’s not too fond of. Too loud, too crowded, too Yuta-like. It brings back memories he’d rather not recall because it hurts, deeply, the part of his heart he doesn’t show. 

So he walks towards the kitchen and, unfortunately, finds Yuta there too.

“Hey,” he greets him awkwardly. It  _ drips  _ awkwardness. Ten would be making vomiting noises. 

“Hey.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Doyoung doesn’t exactly want to drink, as two papers are yet to be finished with a deadline on Monday, and the last time he had a drink he spilled more than needed. (And started all of this. Or ended it. He doesn’t know yet, it’s kind of a paradox. The beginning of the end, the end of the beginning). But there’s not much to do in a stranger’s kitchen.

“Do you want a coffee?”

It breaks his heart. His fragile, big and full-of-secrets heart.

“No, don’t worry, you, uh, just do your thing,” he mutters, and sadly stutters.

“Can’t believe this is making Kim Doyoung nervous.”

“It’s not.”

“Try to say it without stuttering, huh,” he mocks him. And the need to laugh is a bit overwhelming. 

“Shut up.”

Someone enters the kitchen, too, quietly, he greets them but Doyoung doesn’t recognize him, and once he pours enough vodka inside a plastic cup, he’s gone. 

“I think I should go,” says Yuta. “They are waiting for me, probably.”

“Where?” 

Doyoung didn’t mean to ask. Didn’t mean to open his mouth. Didn’t mean to show  _ interest _ . But it’s too late and his face has already gone an embarrassing shade of pink. 

“Upstairs,” is all Yuta says before he gets down the counter and stands straight, showing off his figure as he stretches. Doyoung is going insane. He’s going the kind of insane Ten is. 

“Okay, uh—” Yuta gazes at him, up and down, and his eyes remind Doyoung of the night sky before a storm, “have fun.”

Yuta is gone. Doyoung needs help. 

-

Seeking help is a hard task when you’re emotionally constipated (as Ten has mentioned before). 

Doyoung doesn’t dare to ask anyone for advice, not even for comfort. He simply stares at his laptop again and wishes it could solve all of his problems—yet no matter how many articles he reads, they all remind him of the same thing: his flaws. And those are hard to get rid off. Hard to recognize by himself when he’s an arrogant, soulless, heartless person. 

(He keeps adding negative adjectives as days go by, he guesses in a month just describing him as a bad person would be enough). 

Learning and unlearning takes time, that, Doyoung knows. 

But he still takes the first step to change and texts Ten.

**Doyoung  
** _ Hey, I need your help _

**Ten  
** _ about? _

**Doyoung  
** _ My love life _

**Ten  
** _ again? _

**Doyoung  
** _ I can’t solve it myself _

**Ten  
** _ god FINALLYYY SEE?  
_ _ admitting it is the first step to solve it  
_ _ now wanna come over? _

**Doyoung  
** _ Wasn’t Johnny coming back from his trip today? _

**Ten**   
_ yea around 8pm so dnot worry _ _   
_ _ you will be warned _

**Doyoung**   
_ Thank you _

Requesting Ten’s advice, once again, should be considered masochism at this point. But for some reason, Ten is a wise person who has gone through a lot regarding romance, so no matter how annoying he is sometimes, Doyoung chooses him as his first option. 

“So, tell me, you’ve been thinking… right?”

Ten sips on a disgusting green mix that Doyoung would rather not know what is made of. He has a cup of tea in front of him, but his stomach is yelling at him, upset, so he remains seated until the tea goes cold. 

“I think so,” Doyoung answers, “I’ve been researching.”

“Researching?”

“Yes, looking up articles on  _ Google _ , that’s called research,” he explains. Ten sighs. 

“I can’t believe you, you’re supposed to be the smartest out of us, and you’re using  _ Google  _ for  _ advice _ ?” Ten clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Seriously, that won’t fix anything.”

“I am smart enough to know that,  _ thanks _ ,” now Doyoung rolls his eyes and leans further back on the couch. He’s aware he’s pouting and frowning, acting like a child, but his chest feels heavy because of a problem that won’t go away until he fixes it. Fixing it is the problem, too. 

“You need to understand, first of all, that this is not about making up,” Ten starts, “this is about you owning up to your mistakes and your flaws, that got in between your relationship. You hurt your partner, you apologize, but you can’t continue with the same attitude.”

“I know I hurt him but—”

“See? No  _ buts _ , Yuta never opens up but he did open up to you, he got to know you, he fell for you, he  _ knows  _ you, but you didn’t do the same for him.” 

“Ten, I just can’t let him love me,” Doyoung finally says. Suddenly, the air gets thicker. “I feel like I’m not deserving.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” is what Ten replies, “oh.”

“Yeah, it’s  _ deep _ , okay, I’m having a hard time even telling you,” he says and watches his hands on his lap trembling. 

“Okay, I get it, but everyone is deserving of love, you understand that, right?” Doyoung simply shakes his head. “Why not?”

“I feel like I’m too difficult. See all the mess I caused? This is why I only have one ex, and it lasted three weeks.”

“But, Doie, this is different. Love is just—something you experience, is not about deserving it or not, if you love him, that’s great, if he loves you, that’s great too, but like—your self-esteem issues shouldn’t come in between you and Yuta,” Ten explains, “I mean, you should  _ revise  _ that first.”

“Revise what? My self esteem?” Doyoung asks, curious. “I think I’m great.”

“C’mon….”

“Okay, it’s just... feeling like a lot. Like a bother. Like he will find someone new that’s ten times better and less bothersome,” now he feels just a tad lighter, at least, as if opening up means literally opening his chest and letting out the worries that suffocate him, “and then abandon me.”

“Ohhh, abandonment issues,” Ten points out, “nice.” 

“I literally don’t know why I’m here asking  _ you  _ for advice,” Doyoung mutters.

“Because I’ve been in a committed relationship for four years,” he replies, “and you know that.”

That, Doyoung knows. That Johnny and Ten took time to be what they are today, that Ten went through multiple partners before, that Johnny had a hard time accepting himself and his sexuality, that they fought every day because Johnny wouldn’t even hold Ten’s hand in a public space. 

So maybe, maybe Ten is right. 

Maybe private-Doyoung and extroverted-Doyoung should become a single personality. A single individual. 

-

Talking to Johnny is a more relaxing, unique experience. Subjective, too. 

He’s patient and gives advice somehow like a therapist, although he’s majoring in  _ Veterinary Sciences _ right now; Doyoung thinks he could be a great psychologist. He could be great at anything, actually.

“Don’t kill him,” says Ten as he grabs his bag from the couch, “Bye. Love you.”

They kiss like they’re used to it. Like an everyday thing. Like a domestic couple, that’s what they are. And even if Doyoung pretends to be disgusted, his heart feels full for a moment until it shatters once again, back to its usual disarray of pieces. 

Once Ten is gone, they chat it up easily over tea, that this time, Doyoung doesn’t allow to go cold, and then Johnny asks, “What’s up with you, then?”

And he begins talking, non-stop. Doyoung feels embarrassment overtake his face and neck, painting them a radiant scarlet, once he realizes he let out more than a single sentence at a time, and Johnny laughs and tells him that it’s  _ okay _ . Johnny is something else. 

“I feel you, y’know,” Johnny starts, “it’s difficult to stop, think about your flaws, and just change them. It was hard for me to put a stop to my entire life and think about my sexuality when it was causing me so much trouble, seriously, I feel you.” 

Doyoung can simply nod.

“But, that doesn’t mean it’s not on  _ you  _ or that you can’t change it, it’s just a matter of having a moment of realization, being honest with yourself and also—don’t give up. If you love Yuta, don’t give up.” 

He talks about love so easily. It only makes him wish he was able to more.

“That’s the part I’m stuck on, I can’t think of loving him because I also don’t see myself being loved,” Doyoung explains, more easily now.

“I know, that’s hard. But the problems is not about you loving him, that’s for you to realize later, first you gotta let yourself be loved, Doyoung,” Johnny smiles at him in a way that relaxes his muscles and gives his body a bit more of space to breathe. “Work on that.”

“I just…”

“I thought I was a lot too,” so Johnny is a mind-reader. Good to know. “I thought Ten would get tired of waiting, of my family problems, of my self-esteem problems, even problems with my ex-girlfriend. I had all that  _ on  _ me, all problems that came from me, and despite that, Ten somehow endured all of that, he waited.”

“Yuta didn’t wait though,” Doyoung reasons. Saying it makes it worse. 

“Yuta gave you space,” Johnny corrects him and continues, “I can assure you Ten said worse stuff to me when we were fighting. And during the time I had to discover myself, he just gave me space.” 

“I don’t need space, I need solutions.” 

Johnny laughs. “You need to calm down. And think.”

Think. Doyoung  _ over _ thinks. 

“I think a lot,” he says, “I know it doesn’t look like it.”, 

“But you’re not thinking about the right stuff. Just over and over repeating to yourself how you’re not worth of love,” as Johnny speaks, Doyoung realizes he drank the tea already, and though the mug is warm, his hands are extremely cold. “Think about what love is to you, and I promise you, it will come up.”

“Wow, okay…” he’s at a loss of words, so he just nods and stares fixedly at his hands on the table. “I think I owe you a big one.”

“You make Ten happy, that’s enough for me,” Johnny says. 

God, they are so… full of love.

“That’s love.”

“It is.”

-

So love, Doyoung realizes now, is a complex and wonderful thing. 

He recalls the first date Yuta took Doyoung to, a Japanase food restaurant. Because he wanted Doyoung to see what his home tasted like. And that single comment, Doyoung remembers, made his whole night. A funny and handsome person, taking him out for dinner, walking him home. Romantic details that he appreciated very much at that time. 

But it’s in the small things. 

“I think I love this place,” Doyoun had said, munching on the food. He never speaks with his mouth full, but he had an itch to make a comment on that. 

“See? I know the best places,” Yuta replied, smirking, and shoved a piece of  _ sashimi  _ down his throat.

“Recommend me more some day.”

“I will, don’t worry.”

As he got home that day, with a polite goodbye he saw Yuta off at his door, and rummaged through his coat pocket to find his keys, but instead, his fingers came into contact with paper. 

There were three different contact cards for various restaurants, a Japanese one, again, an Indian one, and then one that seemed more expensive and luxurious. Doyoung smiled to himself, like a teenager, and safely kept them in his pocket until he pinned them on his cork board. 

That’s the first instance Doyoung pinpoints. 

Then, one of the many times Doyoung forgot to put on his contact lenses, and Yuta had to remind him of his glasses, read stuff for him. How Yuta recognized his habit and quickly started reacting. Doyoung recalls Yuta laughing at the case of his glasses, which is a leopard print one, and then apologizing with the promise of buying a new one for him.

“Wait,” Doyoung had said, grabbing his phone, “I think Ten just texted me the place.”

“Oh, okay,” Yuta replied, stopping dead in his tracks, and walked back beside Doyoung. He never let go of his hand.

“He, uh, says,” no matter how hard Doyoung attempted, he couldn’t manage to read what the message said, and having Yuta by his side so attentive, only embarrassed him more. 

“You forgot your contacts, didn't you?” he accused him, a soft smile on his face. “Let me see. It says ‘ _ see you at the mc outside _ ’.”

That simple fact, Yuta remembering his lack of vision and helping him out, is another moment to pinpoint.

Like this, Doyoung realizes there are many, lots of moments in which Doyoung had to mentally pause and breathe in and out for a minute, smile fondly, or just be happy around Yuta. Situations in which he saw a future, a stable relationship, a dream in which he’s committed to someone who  _ loves  _ him. 

Doyoung realizes love has been there all along, except he was so afraid of it, he never noticed.

-

“Aren’t you tired of being so cheesy?”

Doyoung pops up in front of Johnny and Ten cuddling on a bench outside, all huddled up together. It’s jealousy, and Doyoung is proud of himself for admitting that. He wishes he was doing that right now. 

“No,” Ten responds. “Are you, babe?”

Johnny shakes his head sleepily, and blinks up at Doyoung attempting to discern who’s talking to them, apparently.

“Who—Oh, Doyoung, how are you doing?”

“Fine, I guess, figuring shit out,” he replies honestly. “I’m experiencing this  _ thing  _ called  _ envy  _ right now, and I’m admitting I want the disgusting thing you two have.” 

With a grin, Ten applauds him. “That’s the spirit!”

“I still don’t like  _ PDA _ ,” Doyoung clarifies, just in case, “but I—I miss him?”

“Oh my God.”

The way Johnny looks at Ten when he leans away just a bit makes his heart swell, his chest hurting. It’s dripping fondness, sweetness, sticky like honey. And Doyoung, as much as an anti-romance he is, thinks of the many times Yuta has stared at him like that, the many times Doyoung stared back and tried to hide what his eyes so desperately wanted to express. How he concealed it to the point Yuta stopped seeing it. 

Stopped believing, put an end to it. 

Doyoung feels proud for admitting it’s been his fault since the beginning. Since he first started dating and never said ‘ _ I love you _ ’ back. 

He wishes he could say it, now. 

-

**Doyoung  
** _ Hey _

**Yuta siri put a heart bes  
** hey…

**Doyoung  
** _ I miss you _

**Yuta siri put a heart bes** **  
** _ i miss you too  
_ _ is something wrong? _

**Doyoung** **  
** _ No, I just miss you _ _   
_ _ And I wanted to tell you _ _   
_ _ Just so you know _

**Yuta siri put a heart bes** **  
** _ it’s good to tell me  
_ _ i miss you a lot  
_ _ wanna have dinner? _

His fingers tremble a bit as they go over the keyboard.

**Doyoung** **  
** _ Yes that’d be nice _ _   
_ _ Same place as always? _

**Yuta siri put a heart bes** **  
** _ yess _

He gets ready about twenty times. Tries on different outfits as if it was a first date, and worries over what to say or do. However, the fact that it’s not a date, at all, stays etched in his brain, and Doyoung is reminded of it every time he analyzes what to wear too much. Are they friends? Merely acquaintances? Are  _ exes  _ supposed to get along? 

Doyoung finds no answers. So he dresses somewhat similar to their first date. 

**Doyoung** **  
** _ I’m already on my way _

**Yuta siri put a heart bes** **  
** _ i’m waiting for you inside _

And he is, all glorious, shiny hair and dazzling smile. Yuta looks  _ bright _ , and it makes Doyoung’s stomach churn to think he was, perhaps, overshadowing him before.

“Hello,” Doyoun says just a tad shyly. Hesitant, he’d say.

Yuta smiles up at him and signals for him to take a seat. “You look good:”

“Thanks,” incredibly, Doyoung feels flustered. He takes the compliment (that article haunts him, but it comes nearly entirely from him). “You look… happy.”

“You make me happy,” oh, so it starts, “to know that you’re going through some sort of self-discovery journey. I’m glad you didn’t let our thing die, y’know, I’m happy you gave it a shot and didn't shove it under the rug.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to know more about myself,” Doyoung manages to reply after a minute, “not only  _ because  _ of you, but because it also affects others, my self-esteem, it’s been building up.”

They still haven’t ordered food, so Yuta calls for the waiter, and as they wait, Doyoung continues, 

“I realized there’s no need to have two separate personalities when I can just be  _ myself _ ,” he explains, “maybe I actually don’t like PDA, but I do love your cuddles, and your compliments, and your inherent need to help me and others.” 

“I… You’re making it difficult to be just my ex right now,” Yuta comments, groaning a bit. 

“Sorry,” Doyoung smiles. It feels good. “I feel good now.”

He feels, and talks about it. 

“I’m glad,” the waiter places the menu on their tables so he pauses for a moment, and once he’s gone, Yuta continues, “and I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I was, I don’t know, harsh,” he says, “I think I put too much pressure on you. But I couldn’t really take it anymore, at some point I felt like I was forcing you—like you were obliged to like me back.”

“You were harsh enough, I need a good kick in the stomach to realize I need to change.”

“I’m glad my kick was strong enough,” Yuta grins.

“Oh, it was, so now you’re paying.”

“Of course.”

It’s a first date, all over again. Except there was a relationship before, but it doesn’t come up as a negative thing, instead they go over every memory and weird situations during their period together as a couple, with joy but also wistfulness. Doyoung eats slowly only so it lasts longers, and drinks three glasses of wine so words can flow easily out of his mouth. Yuta only stares and smiles.

Doyoung allows him to. 

“This was delicious,” Doyoung comments.

“It was. I might just take an Uber home instead of driving.”

“You want me to drive?"

Yuta arches an eyebrow. “You want to?”

“Of course, I’ll take an Uber from your place to mine, it’ll be cheaper.” 

Doyoung’s logic is extremely senseful, of course. But it doesn’t have anything to do with money. 

“Ok then.” 

Even if it was a joke, Yuta ends up paying for both their meals, and leaves a generous tip because of how good the food was. (Doyoung is starting to think it was just the overflowing cheerfulness they were experiencing). Then, Yuta gives Doyoung his keys.

“Don’t kill us.”

“No promises.”

It's incredibly dangerous how distracting Yuta is on the passenger seat, window open, wind ruffling his hair. The city lights paint his face with different shapes and colors, and Doyoung might just crash if he doesn't stop sneaking glances. The ordinary road is nothing compared to Yuta. His boring, structured routine is nothing compared to the amusing and unpredictable one when Yuta is in it. 

“I said, don't kill us,” Yuta suddenly comments.

“Sorry.”

Doyoung's cheeks go a cherry red, or at least, burn with a high intensity. Seriously, they're adults, it shouldn't be like  _ this _ . 

**“** How is uni?” Doyoung asks, because if he doesn't divert the matter to something else he will probably go insane.

“Great, look,” he points at his see-through shirt with small and delicate flowers. “I designed this one myself.”

God, Doyoung  _ knows  _ he's a Fashion Design major but—this conversation should not be focused at all on Yuta’s outfit, body, or him, overall. He's driving. Doyoung grips the steering wheel a tad tighter.

“It looks good.”

“Thanks.”

Parking in front of Yuta's apartment, Doyoung immediately gets off the car and waits for Yuta at the entrance while searching for his phone. The  _ Uber _ app is seemingly updating (he curses under his breath, Doyoung doesn't want to face any of tonight's implications).

“So,” Yuta begins, “thanks for—just being yourself.”

“You can't thank people for that.”

With a devilish grin, Yuta says, “you're not people, you're  _ Doyoung _ .” 

Doyoung goes to punch his shoulder but Yuta is faster, skilled, he grabs his arm and before Doyoung can clumsily fall, he's being held by Yuta with their faces inches apart. At night, a light breeze blowing, in front of Yuta's apartment, so close he can smell his cologne—it all brings back memories of beginnings. The beginning of what Doyoung now desperately wants back. 

“I, uh—”

Yuta kisses him. He does it first, Doyoung mentally points out. Their lips come into contact and after that, it's a blur. Of their mouths slotting together, of Yuta cupping gently his jaw, of Doyoung pressing him against the wall while tilting his face. If he were to recall such intense kiss, only the memory of Yuta’s peach flavored balm would be present. But now, his lips caress Doyoung's, and the darkest part of his heart seem to light up with fire, coming back together. 

Doyoung's heart is not merely shattered pieces, but a full, beating and healthy heart, that could burst his chest open at any moment.

They part, thankfully. (Or, sadly, tragically, Doyoung knows it's no way to solve it, but Yuta is incredibly addicting). 

“Well,” Yuta manages to utter, “that was something.”

Doyoung is still fixedly gazing at Yuta's lips.

“I'm sorry,” Doyoung realizes Yuta continues talking only because he was staring. “That was—way out of place.”

“It… it wasn't, I mean, I guess you know how I feel now,” he says. 

“I guess I do.”

Doyoung wants to kiss him forever.

“Is a kiss worth more than a thousand words?” Yuta asks, still close, his hands falls easily on Doyoung's hips, as if it's a habit, but this time Doyoung doesn't want him to ever move. 

“I guess not,” Doyoun grimaces, and pulls out his phone again. “We will need to… talk.”

“Yes, talking,” Yuta affirms, eyeing Doyoung's phone. “Let me pay for it.”

“No."

“Please?”

“No.”

Yuta pouts. It's a punch right in the stomach. (Doyoung wants to call Yuta his, wants to go on dates, recite poems in bed at night, tell him  _ he loves him _ ).

“Is paying an  _ Uber _ worth more than a thousand words?” He asks, mockingly.

“Depends on the ride,” replies Yuta. Now, Doyoung can't contain the smile that shows up on his face. 

“Shut up.”

He can see Yuta holding back, from quipping, from saying  _ ‘make me _ ’.

Seemingly, the app is ready to use now, so he calls himself an Uber and remains silent, looking at the screen and its ‘ _ Your Uber will be at your address in 4 minutes’ _ . Yuta's eyes on him burn.

“You could've stayed over,” he comments.

“Now  _ that _ is overstepping boundaries,” Doyoung replies, “because you know I'd have said yes.”

“And that's why I didn't ask,” Yuta smirks. 

“Dumbass.”

Once his ride is arriving, Yuta kisses his cheek and waves a sweet goodbye, watching as Doyoung enters the car. Inside, his heart beats wildly. As if Doyoun is seventeen years old, after his first kiss on a first date with his first girlfriend. It burns, where Yuta placed his lips, where his words marked every inch of his skin.

But, mainly, inside his heart. It burns with love.

-

Talking about it happens the day after.

If it was for Doyoung, they could've discussed it a month later, as he got home and hid under the covers until the memories of the night sent him to sleep. It was Ten, who, the morning after, send so many messages Doyoung had to restart his phone.

**Ten  
** _ WTD  
etd  
Wrf  
WTF*  
you two went on a DATE ARE YOU INSANE  
ARE YOU A TWENAGER?  
doyoung reply to me right now _

**Doyoung  
** _ God you broke my phone  
Good morning to you two  
And we had dinner together, chatted for a bit  
That's it _

**Ten  
** _ doyoun i already know you two made out like high schoolers _

**Doyoung  
** _ Shut up  
I know we need to talk about it  
But let me, idk, open my eyes first _

**Ten  
** _ why did you agree to all of this?))::$: _

**Doyoung  
** Because  
I think I love him

**Ten  
** D  
A

**Doyoung  
** Stop getting so involved in my love life

**Ten  
** you never had a love life this is the best thing that has ever happened to me

**Doyoung  
** 🙄

**Ten  
** anyways now tell him

**Doyoung**   
You're out of your mind  
What if he doesn't want to go this fast?  
Also I'm not sure

**Ten  
** HE asked you out  
why are you so dense omg

**Doyoung  
** I’m late to class  
Bye

**Ten  
** 😐😣👨❤️💋👨🙌☺️

During his lecture, Doyoung’s mind is filled with the taste of Yuta’s lips, with his smile, with his patience, with the many details Doyoung has always appreciated but never realized, never complimented out loud. He resists the urge to run away and knock at Yuta's door right that second by writing at the edge of his notebook his thoughts.

  * _He takes care of me._
  * _Has a car._
  * _Likes me for who I am._
  * _Forgave me._
  * _Taught me about love._



It's an organized list Doyoung then takes home. (It's sticked to his fridge now, like a to-do list. Like a what-to-buy list. Instead, it's an in-love list.)

**Yuta siri put a heart bes  
** _ i’m texting you first so you won't panic  
we need to talk _

**Doyoung  
** _ Yes I know  
Want to come over? _

**Yuta siri put a heart bes  
** _ yeah  
can we make this ‘we need to talk’ talk a good talk? _

**Doyoung  
** _ I’ll try _

**Yuta siri put a heart bes  
** _ ok… _

As usual, Doyoung has planned exactly what to say. A speech inside his mind with the right answers and specific words to obtain satisfactory results. Except Yuta is an anomaly, he has always been. Unpredictable, brave. He took the first step to put an end to it, and now walks into his apartment with words hanging by his mouth.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” he starts, “you needed space, needed time to think, but I made it worse by forcing you to think about stuff you maybe weren't ready to think about just yet. Like, maybe  _ love _ isn't your thing—”

“I think I'm in love with you.”

Yuta pales. (And Doyoung feels guilty for enjoying it). 

“You think… What?” He blinks, twice, staring at Doyoung in disbelief. He'd do that too, truly, if he were in his position. Maybe run away too. 

“That I more than like you. That I'm sure what love is, that I pretend to be annoyed when you tease me because I like it,” Doyoung starts his already thought-out speech. But Yuta’s eyes glistening are a bit distracting. “I think I’m in love, hyung, it's simple.”

“I—Simple? You went to Johnny for a therapy session?” 

It brings a smile to Doyoung's face, and Yuta makes that head-over-heels expression in which he gazes at Doyoung with pure  _ love _ . 

“I've been loving you for a long time,” Yuta says, like it's an off-handed comment, “in my own ways.”

“I realized a bit too late,” Doyoung chuckles. His hands are damp from sweat, and his fingers twitch with the need to grab Yuta and kiss him, over and over again. 

“You did, but it's okay,” he says, sitting down on his bed. “We can start over.”

“So—from end to beginning.”

“Exactly.”

Starting from the end was purely a decision made unconsciously by Doyoung, but Yuta seems to have noticed too, how they are both complex, and need time. And time wasn't an option the first time Yuta kissed Doyoung. They look at each other, glowing cheeks. It's a beginning, for sure.

“So, Kim Doyoung,” Yuta announces, “would you like to be my boyfriend?”

“Gladly.”

They somehow fit on Doyoung's bed, because they kiss and Yuta pins his hands down to the mattress and Doyoung feels the surface around him become endless, infinite. Like he's floating in space, surrounded by stars and Yuta's dark eyes brightening only for him. Kisses come and go, and now it's different.

Now it's love.

-

“Disgusting,” says Ten.

“I know, right?” 

Johnny follows along. Taeil sips on his  _ Frappuccino _ . 

“Look at Doyoung, he's  _ blushing _ ,” Ten points out.

Of course he feels exposed when he has his boyfriend’s hands around his waist and he's sitting on his lap, yet Yuta’s thumb drawing circles on his hipbone is soothing enough. 

“Can you shut up for  _ once _ ?” Doyoung groans as they all lightly laugh.

“He can't,” says Johnny as Ten looks daggers at him. “But I love him.”

“Disgusting.”

Taeil finally speaks up, putting down the book he was reading. “ _It’s_ _syzygy_ ,” the title reads. 

“Ohh, he joined in,” Yuta celebrates, a failed attempt to clap, instead just hitting his thigh with his empty hand. 

“Let's stop embarrassing each other, shall we?”

“Oh, babe, you're embarrassed?”

Doyoung rolls his eyes and curses the moment he decided to come along. He can hear Johnny chuckling. 

“Shut up, asshole,” they all fake-gasp, while Yuta remains unbothered.

“Make me,” he replies. 

And Doyoung is not a public person at all, but he wishes he could turn around and kiss the brattiness out of Yuta. 

Maybe later.

**Author's Note:**

> [if you want to commission me all the info is here!!!](https://twitter.com/ten__wv/status/1227424252330115073?s=20)


End file.
